


eat the rocks, save the world

by StormySkiesAhead



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Good Fenrir, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, SO MANY OC's, Sokovia Accords, a bit - Freeform, also i don't know if i explicitly state it at any point but basically every oc is gay and/or jewish, bc i am both and again I do what I damn well please, but just a heads up the characters are roughly the same, fenrir goes by fenrir jacobi as his human alias btw, honestly i just want fenrir to get a nap by this point, i'm still bitter, i've spent too long with this character to not do something bizarre, in case anyone's wondering: yes I am team Cap, instead of it being trashed so that we get more iron manpain, like i mention them, more accurately: team Not The Accords, oh also fenrir vidan and aquila are all trans fight me, the man NEEDS SLEEP, the purple man - Freeform, the russos disapprove but i do what i damn well please, this would not leave me alone, to anyone who's familiar with me: sorry about everything with Fenrir in it, tony stark has actual fucking character development whoop-dee-doo, what would have happened had Thanos died at the beginning of Infinity War, yall don't have to read my other fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-04-29 18:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14478687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormySkiesAhead/pseuds/StormySkiesAhead
Summary: There's a man, as tall as Korg (whom Fenrir stands beside, vicious and proud) on a good day, with a stone only barely more purple than he is in a gauntlet clearly set for more.Fenrir sets his eyes on the Stone. Something tells him it's important, that it can't be left in the hands of the madman it's in.So, he does the wise, very Asgardian thing, that he believes his sisters would very much approve of.-He eats it.





	1. gullet of power

**Author's Note:**

> just so y'all know I'm very attached to some of the characters in the MCU also I'm bitter AF about SOME things, those who have seen IW know what I'm talking about.

 

_ Death. So much death. Have only a moment to stop, wake up, wake up! _

Fenrir snaps awake on the ship in a split second, hackles raised and a deep rumble sounding off inside the walls. Korg notices it the quickest, and is the first to ask what’s wrong.

“We need to get them out of here.  _ Now,” _ Fenrir snarls, and bounds towards the control room with as much grace as he can manage under all of his stress. None of his pups are onboard (thank the Norns), but plenty of other children are, and Fenrir knows that if push comes to shove, he'll kill for them in a heartbeat.

He almost has to, when they invade the ship.

There's a man, as tall as Korg (whom Fenrir stands beside, vicious and proud) on a good day, with a stone only barely more purple than he is in a gauntlet clearly set for more.

Fenrir sets his eyes on the Stone. Something tells him it's important, that it can't be left in the hands of the madman it's in.

So, he does the wise, very Asgardian thing, that he believes his sisters would very much approve of.

He eats the weird-ass glove. The whole thing. He sinks his teeth into it, rips it off purple-man’s hand, and scarfs it down like it's  _ not _ a hunk of metal, but instead something delicious.

Fenrir wonders if it would be tastier if he ate part of Purple Man’s hand, too.

He scrunches up his nose as he swallows, glancing over at Tyr, who snorts, seeming to know what Fenrir is thinking.

No, he decides. Hands don't taste very good. Besides, he's been good about keeping Kosher, he's not going to change that now.

Fire rumbles in his gut to melt down the metal (it's not Fenrir’s first time eating a weapon to stop it from being used, and his fire knows the drill by now), and Fenrir belches a bit of it, before settling down again, staring Purple Man in the eye, daring the idiot to get his hands close to Fenrir’s mouth again.

Purple Man stares back, a bit disbelieving. Fenrir blinks, a few times, and watches as Purple Man comes back to himself.

Something tells Fenrir that he can't let Purple Man come back to himself. Can't let him give complete orders to his cronies, who were on high alert but also seem a bit stressed by the development.

So, Fenrir swats at him with a singular, enormous paw. Presses him into the floor of the ship. He would fling him out into the darkness of space, but he feels that Purple Man might survive that. Fenrir doesn't know why he feels that, but he does.

“Move, and I'll rip your arms off next,” he snaps, weighing the values of a. Not ending up with burning flesh in his mouth that he'll abruptly have to spit out before the taste sets in, because his mouth is the only effective ripping tool he has at the moment, and b., Purple Man not being able to hurt any of the Asgardian civilians currently treating his massive, dark-furred form as a living shield. While Fenrir is less picky than a tiger shark, he'd rather  _ not _ go with ripping the dickhead’s arms from his shoulders, as again, arms taste bad.

Fenrir decides to sit on him until the situation changes. Purple Asshat snaps something at his stunned cronies, who begin to move, but Brunhilde (or is it just Valkyrie? Fenrir isn't quite sure) doesn't fight beside them for no good reason. She's much quicker, and manages to take out most of them before the last few make it out.

Fenrir hopes they aren't going to Earth, he really does, but something in him says otherwise. He returns to his former job of looking menacing and growling at Purple Man, who seems vaguely nervous, now. Good, he should be. Fenrir has eaten his primary weapon and Valkyrie has killed most of his minions.

Fenrir knows that he has to keep his whole several tons of weight on top of Purple Man, or they're all screwed.

-

Hours of floating around later, he flicks his ears forwards- in the distance, he can hear music (Earth music? Here?), and the sound of a smaller spacecraft. Hati and Skoll, metal cuffs at the moment, tremble around his paws, eager to shift into blades and draw blood, but Fenrir has no hands to wield them at the moment. He wonders if the people on the spacecraft would be willing to wield his sword-wolves, since he can't. Scratch that, he wonders who they are, in the first place.

That's answered when a green woman (so many secondary colors) slices Purple Man’s throat and introduces herself as Gamora.

Fenrir likes her. He'd be curious as to why if he wasn't used to hiding behind terrifying women like Sif and Valkyrie for all of his years of life. But he has been, and Gamora is terrifying, there's no doubt about that.

Fenrir is still dealing with the aftereffects of eating an Infinity Stone (so that's what it was) and a metal gauntlet, so he can't shift to his normal shape and introduce himself unless he wants to risk puking up molten metal until his body has acclimated to it. He still, politely, says hello to Gamora’s team (they call themselves the ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ and all Fenrir can think about is that they're quite the batch of characters) and gets off the dead body he’s been laying on.

His father has retreated next to Thor, who looks to the Guardians with a smile on his face. On the other side of the room, Brunhilde paces, and the Hulk sits cross-legged, seemingly very irritated that they didn't include him in the smashing of things.

Fenrir wanders over to him, something urging him to speak with the green creature.

“Hulk,” he hums, catching his attention. Fenrir flicks his ears in the direction that the Purple Man’s cronies went, and then at Heimdall.

“Why you flicking ears places?” Hulk asks, and Fenrir snorts, pushing Hulk in the direction of Heimdall with his snout.

“I fear for Earth,” Fenrir rumbles to the two of them, and looks out into space, again. Heimdall understands, and sends the two of them careening through space.

-

Fenrir sticks the landing, on the street. Hulk (now Bruce, Fenrir corrects) does not. The molten slag and Infinity Stone combination in his stomach does threaten to come back up, however. More metal will fix that, temporarily, but it’s not going to stay there forever.

Fenrir adjusts where he’s standing (he almost crushed a car), and shrinks. He can't become quite as small as a human in his battle-shape, or even one of Earth’s larger wolves, but he doesn't need to stand on two legs, and a wolf the size of a polar bear can still barely fit through a door.

He's thankful for the fact that New Yorkers are used to practically everything, because the only one who arrives is his eldest son, Vidan, who looks like he's just finished a triple shift at the hospital, but is otherwise alright.

“Keep them safe,” Fenrir whispers, and Vidan nods. He will, thank the Norns, but Fenrir needs to give him time to gather them, first.

-

Fenrir finally manages to pin down Bruce’s scent, and finds himself in front of an elegant door. Something else smells familiar (probably someone Fenrir knows from all the years he's spent on Earth, and in New York specifically).

He whines loudly and paws at it (not really caring how unrefined he's being), barking happily when Bruce opens the door hastily. He steps carefully inside, scanning the interior. Thor described a place like this, when he updated Fenrir on what had happened since he'd gone under.

_ ‘Oh, hey Stephen,’ _ Fenrir thinks, the familiar smell finally being reconciled with the face. Strange and the other man (he's never met him, unfortunately- he seems interesting) blink at Fenrir’s presence, but otherwise shrug and continue talking.

“Bruce, are you alright? I know from experience that the Bifrost can be a bit… disconcerting,” Fenrir says, nosing the man with his snout.

“Dr Jacobi, I was unaware that you were actually a gigantic wolf,” Strange hums. Fenrir barks out a laugh, and Bruce looks between the two rapidly.

“I'm fine. You two know each other?” he asks, and Fenrir rolls his eyes.

“We were lab partners in medical school,” he says, and Bruce blinks, looking between them again, most likely trying to reconcile the images of an Asgardian going to medical school and the Fenrir he was used to.

“Was he just as much of an uptight asshole then as he is now?” Bruce finally asks, and Fenrir starts laughing again.

Strange harrumphs, spinning his hands in a circle (and they tremble- Fenrir wonders what's happened to make them shake like that, to keep his old friend from a job he loved doing, if only because how talented he was at it pissed people off), sparks flying and space twisting to form a doorway to elsewhere. Fenrir keeps his paw around Bruce.

He smells Stark, and growls lowly. He may have not been on Earth in quite a while, but his pups have sent him updates and he isn't pleased with what he's been hearing.

But who they call is not up to Fenrir (he knows this well- the first person he would have asked for help has wings the span of a small aircraft and carries herself like the Queen that she is).

He lets them explain things to Stark, who nods shakily, eventually pulling out a flip phone. Oh. He's calling Rogers. Or at least, he might.

“So, we have two Infinity Stones on Earth-” Stark says, and Fenrir cuts him off.

“Three, actually- I ate the Power Stone,” he rumbles proudly, and there's a few snatches of laughter from the man that Fenrir has learned is named Wong.

Strange and Stark look at him incredulously, and Fenrir grins a grin full of sharp, gleaming teeth, proudly showing off the glow of fire in his gaping maw.

“I'm melting down the Infinity Gauntlet- or at least I  _ think _ that's what it's called- as we speak. That's actually why I'm in this shape- I have to work up the temperature to pretty high to get it to collapse in on itself, and my normal-shape, while very fireproof and good at sustaining heat, doesn't do it as well as my battle-form. It's worked, so far, but I might end up upchucking molten metal and an Infinity Stone at some point in the next few days.” Fenrir barks amusedly.

“Well  _ that _ doesn't sound healthy,” Stephen remarks, and Fenrir almost starts laughing again. He's missed this- the people of Asgard are understandably wary of him after what has happened, and it's nice to be able to joke with someone every once in a while. Even if the group he's in is composed of someone with a moderately-to-more-so questionable background (Stark- he's heard about the Spider-incident), someone he barely knows (Wong, though Wong seems nice enough), and someone he tends to only tolerate on the best of days (Strange- while they may have been good study partners, the man's an  _ ass) _ .

Fenrir stares down Stark, again, who lazily blinks back up at him as if to say ‘what?’. Fenrir gestures with his tail at the flip phone, then mimes using it with said tail. Stark huffs, and Fenrir growls at him.

“You're gonna have to call him eventually, when they show up. Might as well give the Missing Ones a heads-up before trouble arrives in the form of the Purple Man’s cronies who want to take vengeance for their leader,” Fenrir snorts, turning back to the other three in the room. Stark curses, and Fenrir grins back at him.

He may be an ass, and have questionable morals (Fenrir  _ remembers _ the Sokovia Accords, thank you very much, and anyone who's willing to sign that garbage fire is suspect to him), but he could be salvageable.

“Uh, guys?” Bruce says, and Fenrir feels the ominous tint in the air like the quiet rasp of strings in a horror movie soundtrack.

“This,” the wolf mutters, swishing his tail back and forth as he watches a car be flung into the air past the window, “is  _ not _ good."


	2. oh hey, there's more of them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The children take their own stand, but they don't quite know what to make of things. Also, Hati and Skoll are metal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whee more of this wolf-filled nonsense

He turns to Stark again.

“Call Rogers.  _ Now. _ If that's who I think it is, you'd better not let your pride get in between you and the safety of the people out there,” he snaps, cracking his back and preparing to tear through everything to protect the people that fill the streets. As Fenrir barges through the door, his shape stretches, until he can pick up a car in his mouth with ease. He looks worriedly down at Bruce, who seems to be having more than a bit of trouble calling up the Hulk.

There are two of the Purple Man’s four escaped cronies (the best of them, according to Gamora) under the giant flying doughnut. Fenrir feels the Power Stone rumble around in him as he faces them, begging him to use its power to wipe them all away to nothingness.

Fenrir ignores it, because he’s a giant wolf and  _ already _ the Norse destruction deity, and he doesn’t need a fancy rock to protect his turf, because New York is  _ his _ turf, and has been for a long while, now.

Stark brings his new suit out to play, and Strange and Wong are more impressive sorcerers than he'd given them credit for.

The winds whip around them and Fenrir finds himself in between a building full of civilians and the two glorified video game antagonists he’s facing off against. A snarl is ripped from his throat as soon as it can be, and Fenrir tenses, ready to pounce.

His eyes widen when he hears a familiar snapping, pup-like growl join his in harmony, alongside a childlike (not quite, but close enough to it that it burns) screeching yell, slinging past them. Fenrir’s mind catches up to the rest of his body, and he freezes in fear.

_ ‘Nick’ _ he thinks, and whirls into action again. The too-young-one is helping Stark with the bigger of Purple Man’s cronies, and Fenrir’s youngest son has launched himself into the fray against the skinny, creepy-looking one.

Fenrir sucks in a breath, watching them fight around each other like a dance, and squares himself up.

Well, he’s done it before, with their boss, and he'll freak them out again.

_ “NIKLAS FENRIRSON,” _ he snarls, choosing to give his pup a bit of privacy in the human section of his life,  _ “THAT HAD BETTER NOT BE YOU.” _

Niklas pays him no mind, aside from a hastily yelped  _ ‘sorry dad!’ _ , and Fenrir snorts irritably, sizing up his weirdo opponent, who looks almost amused as he sends pieces of random metals and other objects towards Fenrir’s youngest.

Which, no. First of all, bad idea. Second of all,  _ bad fucking idea, man. _

Fenrir locks eyes with the video game villain throwing cars at his son, and is struck in that moment how much the man looks like a wrinkled, nostril-less Voldemort. It hits Niklas too, clearly, but his pup doesn't have the same kind of discipline that Fenrir has, and Fenrir barely has any at all.

He’ll have to give Nick a lesson, later, about not bursting out laughing at a villain he's in the process of fighting, but it does the trick. Less Interesting Voldemort is freaking out. Fenrir continues to run interference for both his pup’s sake and the civillian’s, but the overdressed nonsense-man is getting sloppy.

And then, there's a lucky shot gotten in on Stephen (yes, he's Stephen again- Fenrir has missed having a doctor-friend, and Stephen’s not  _ quite _ as much of a jerk bag as he used to be), and then he's  _ gone,  _ and the colorful young one’s gone, too, and Stark’s flying upwards and upwards and upwards and Fenrir can't  _ do _ anything because while his battle-shape can jump, it can't jump that high, and it very much can't  _ fly. _

So, Fenrir and Wong and Nick and Bruce sit in between the rubble of a Manhattan street, and talk strategy while Fenrir has an Infinity Stone in his stomach that's telling him to rip things apart, Bruce can't summon the Hulk, and Niklas is grounded until  _ the end of time. _

“So, you said there were four,” Wong says, and Fenrir nods.

“I think our first move should be calling the Avengers,” Nick cuts in, and Fenrir gestures at the sky, then Bruce, with his tail. Nick shakes his head.

“I mean the  _ other _ Avengers. Wilson, Romanoff, Rhodes, Maximoff, Barnes,  _ Rogers,” _ he clarifies. Bruce looks at Fenrir curiously.

“Didn't Tony already do that?” he asks, and Fenrir shakes his head.

“Not sure, and I don't want to risk leaving them in the dark on this. Nick, call Vidan, tell him to gather up the kids and get Wanda and Vision out of wherever the hell they are, and make contact with Rogers’s team. Lockdown is over,” he barks, and Niklas nods his head. Fenrir feels nervous and guilty about asking his pups to run retrieval, since it would put them in danger, but he knows they'd do it anyways and without backup if he doesn't greenlight it.

Nick runs off to call his siblings, and Bruce holds the flip phone to his ear, dialing Rogers. Fenrir and Wong sit in the middle, not quite sure what to do.

Then, Fenrir has an idea. He takes out Hati and Skoll (unused during the fight-he couldn't get close enough for a solid strike and he didn't want to risk them warping if Wrinkly Voldemort thought to try to manipulate them), who revert to their statue-shapes almost immediately, irritated and hungry for something to do.

Hati steps out first, their silver head tilting towards Wong in greeting. Skoll hangs behind, bronze-copper ears pinned back, more wary. Fenrir sighs, and reaches his hands out to the metal constructs, who both approach eagerly.

It's Skoll who pierces him with their sharp-eyed stare, Skoll who asks him what they are to do.

“Hati, find the pup-pack, then the exiled Avengers. Make sure they're alright, get them somewhere safe. Skoll, my job for you is a tad more… demanding,” Fenrir says, and Skoll, who has been made to be the harder worker, the harder fighter, and shows it with nicks and scratches all over their metal body, stands at attention, eager to have a duty to complete.

Fenrir thinks of the strong but young human in the brightly colored costume, and how his son had been oh-so-happy to fight alongside the pup.

“I need you to find Stephen, Skoll. Find Stephen, and the pup that’s there with him, Stark, too, if you can. Bring them  _ back,  _ Skoll,” he growls to the construct, who nods, and bounds off.

Fenrir turns his eyes up to the sky and hopes beyond hope that his creations will get there in time.

Rick wakes up at three in the morning with two frantic voicemails from her oldest and youngest brothers respectively, the second featuring a voice she hasn't heard in too long.

It's her dad. Vi’s already up and left, rousing the rest of their siblings from their hiding places, but Erika Jacobi is the only one who might actually know where Maximoff and Vision are hiding out, besides Romanoff, that is.

The eldest daughter of the pup-pack cracks her back, grabs her atgeir from its honored position near her bed (unlike her father and a few of her siblings, who give their weapons life and names, she calls the atgeir “sharp face” and will give it a few more centuries to develop a life of its own before she gives up on the matter) and sets her sights on Edinburgh. Maximoff’s energy pulses like an SOS signal, and if the other members of the pup-pack used the same magic she did, they'd be able to recognize it in a heartbeat.

Rick’s just arrived on-scene when she's blasted into the wall by a lady with a  _ very nice polearm _ . She blocks it with Sharp Face, and watches as Lynn slams Ásjá into, as her father described, The Purple Man’s Third Crony. Third Crony blocks the axe-swing with the  _ very nice polearm,  _ which Rick is going to have to steal at some point soon, because it's… really nice, and Rick and Nick are in charge of the family armories for a reason.

They fight and fight, and Rick is relishing the feeling of working back-to-back with her little sister, who seems just as invested in making this interesting as Rick is. They block and parry and strike like a well-oiled team, and if Rick and Lynn weren't both distracted, they'd have won.

But they are distracted. They hear Wanda scream in pain, and, as one, turn to find her. Lynn is hit first- she and Rick are both talented fighters and, in normal scenario, would have taken Crony Three out each by themselves, but when distracted, Lynn is the weak link- and nearly crumples.

Then Rogers and Romanoff are there, and Rick is relieved, because while she may be older than almost all the Avengers on a technicality, and may have trained to fight for hundreds of years, she’s not  _ really _ an adult yet and would like the  _ real _ adults to take care of it, than you very much.

It's been too long since she's seen Romanoff, Rick decides. Romanoff doesn't ask too many questions, but is an  _ excellent _ conversationalist, and she and Rick and Lynn banter back and forth for the full ride back to the States.

And then, of course, Rick asks the important questions.

“How’d you manage to find Maximoff and Vision as quickly as I did?” Rick hums to Lynn, who laughs, smiles.

“What, I can't follow my big sister? Ricky, I'm hurt. You obviously knew how to find them- besides Dad, you're the best tracker I know- and I only knew how to find  _ you, _ so I did,” she replies. Rick feels herself smiling so broadly it hurts. She doesn't see her sisters nearly as much as she would like, and Lynn has the same fire in her eyes that Rick does.

The same fire that they all share.

It's one of the things that makes them the children of Fenrir.

Conan, Aquila, and Zahara are quite possibly the most paranoid of the siblings, and it really shows.

When the three of them (holed up together, on Vi’s recommendation) get the notification to fight instead of hide, they already have their weapons with them and are halfway out the door.

The three of them also make up the more defensive portion of the fighters- Conan uses staves, Zahara a quarterstaff, and Aquila uses a rope-chain that tends to prefer being a serpent over anything else.

They're joined quickly enough by Vidan, who shoots murderous looks at anyone who tries to stop them as they make their way to the others.

Zahara watches with amusement as Conan jumps from ‘nervous’ to ‘freaking out’ and circles around Wilson, asking question after question about the wings like he hasn't asked them a thousand times before.

Zahara hears a snort, and turns to smile at Lynn, who's eyes flit between Rhodes and herself, and has one hand on her axe, seemingly in case anything happens.

Zahara understands. It's been Lynn who has broken children out of government facilities, Lynn who has defied the Accords with her chin held up higher than any of the rest of them, sans their father. It has been Lynn who has fought like a lioness, like the she-wolf that they both are, to protect those that Ross would like to harm, and he- or more accurately, his hologram- was just in the room.

She clicks her tongue quietly- just a little thing so that Lynn knows that she's here, that she has her big sister’s back. Rick nods, from across the room, and Zahara knows that if push comes to shove, their oldest sister will fight to the death to protect them all.

It does, in fact, provide her with a sense of comfort. It does to Lynn as well, from how she relaxes, and grins ever so slightly.

Six of the eight children of Fenrir know where they are going, so one of the six slips off to give a heads-up to the other two.

Vidan raises his phone up to his ear, taps his feet thrice, and vanishes through the floor. Calder learns what is going on, but the light-eyed pup doesn’t truly care for fighting. Instead, Calder smiles, throws his older brother out of the house, and wakes his dragon-roommate up.

Fenrir hears all of this from Nick, who has been keeping tabs on his siblings. He raises his eyes to the sky, and keeps a hand on Hati, hoping beyond hope that Skoll will get there in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, thanks! This story is on a bit of shaky ground, but i do enjoy writing it! Updates are slower than groundwater but eventual!


	3. copper lungs, copper heart, silver bones, silver smarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey this ones got Hati and Skoll in it more so that's cool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why the hell did this take so long

Skoll is not the kind of wolf that enjoys being told to go ‘fetch’, but they’re loyal to their Maker, and he told them to do this, so here they are.

  
Skoll realizes with a jolt that Fenrir has forgotten to tell these three that the threat of Thanos has been neutralized, and whines. They and their Maker are going to get an earful from their Maker’s father for that oversight.

  
Skoll focuses back on the problem at hand- getting inside of the giant doughnut of a ship.

  
Then, there is a hole in the side of the ship. Skoll does what they do best and moves quickly, racing though it before the rift is shut. They are confronted by a trio of men (well, two men and a boy), one of which Skoll recognizes as Strange.  
Skoll grumbles as they recognize an attack stance from Stark, and shakes their head, metal-but-not fur rasping as they do. Strange covers his ears, and Skoll snorts, arranging themself so that they were more comfortable.

  
The small one raises an eyebrow, but walks forwards. Stark moves as if to stop him, but he continues, stepping in front of Skoll and rubbing their metal snout with one hand.

  
“You're soft!” he says excitedly, and Skoll snorts, dropping their head more and grumbling as they nudge the little one’s chest.

  
“Yes, I am soft, cub,” they reply, rolling their eyes. They wonder what Hati is doing- how they are doing- as they allow the cub to pet them. The poke they send out at their other half comes back with reassurance, and Skoll smiles.

  
“I'd be surprised that you talk, but I'm assuming you're one of Fenrir’s constructions,” Strange cuts in, and Skoll nods again, their enormous tail creating a screeching sound across the floor as they move it.

  
Strange, to his credit, blinks once, then looks back to Skoll, ready for the wolf to provide him with more information. Skoll nudges the cub to the side, and strides forwards, ducking their head below the beams. Out of the corner of their eye, they notice that the hole has been sealed, thankfully.

  
“Yes, I am. My Maker has requested that I bring you back to Earth,” they reply. Strange looks like a puppet with cut strings, with how he collapses in relief. Skoll does not want to tell him that they do not know how to bring all three back without landing, first.

  
And, knowing the people they do, Skoll is sure that landing will be the most difficult part of the operation.

  
The little one tenses. Skoll lowers their enormous copper-but-not head (they were built to last, they remember) and closes their front teeth around the fabric of his suit, careful not to hurt him.

  
The other two look intrigued, and Skoll doesn't know what to say about that, other than for the two men to keep their hands off of them.

  
There is a hiss of their pelt scraping against the wall, and Skoll growls, tossing their enormous head to the side. The pup whimpers, and Skoll retorts with a whine- they do not wish to scare him.  
Skoll sighs again, wrapping their tail around the pup, and looking out the forward window. A gleam catches their eye.

  
Skoll rises to their feet, and waves the three geniuses over, scrabbling with enormous, heavy paws at the steering mechanism.

  
It unlatches, and Skoll twists themself into a more manageable shape, trying to figure out where the giant flying doughnut (quite frankly, a horrible design choice, Skoll was going to ask their maker to have some words with the architect of this ship, namely about storage space) is going next.

  
It's not exactly too late, but close enough, really. Skoll realizes, with widened eyes and raised hackles and a snarl ripping up through their throat, exactly where they’re going.

  
Titan. Skoll remembers that the Ugly One (what they are calling the one that Stark referred to as ‘squidward’) does not- did not, Skoll corrects themself- know about the fact that Thanos is dead.

  
And neither do his other cronies, any of the other ugly (but not as ugly as the Ugly One) sycophants that patrol the galaxy, the universe for him, sycophants responsible for the deaths of billions, billions attributed to Thanos himself.  
Skoll realizes, with dawning fear and sickness in their stomach, rolling around like ping-pong balls or the summoned storms that Thor brings with him, that there are three out of the four mains left. Three, all with their own weapons, own methods, own ships, possibly even their own armies.

  
It took ingenuity and space itself just to take down one.  
And Fenrir only has Hati left to guard him.

  
Skoll decides, looking out at the surface of Titan, that if they don't melt to death in a crash where they are, Loki is going to turn them into scrap metal for just listening to their Maker.

  
Hati, on the other ridiculously powerful metal paw, is having a relatively good day. They have been following their Maker for hours, trying to duck below the trees and buildings covering New York before their pelt overheats and they become scalding to the touch.

  
Their Maker has paced a circle around the entirety of the city, enormous dark paws eating up the ground as he tries to figure out an attack strategy.

  
Hati hopes that they will be given an assignment soon- all of this pacing is making them nervous. They feel as if their paws will be worn away by the sandpaper-ground they tread over, scratched down to nothing but nubs.

  
But Hati is made of stronger things. They are made of metal from the stars, with magic gems for eyes and the kind of speed a greyhound could only dream of. Hati is made to run by their Maker’s side for hundreds upon hundreds of years and to never need to stop for anything more than a breath.

  
Hati likes it that way. They like being useful, there if their Maker needs them, which he does now. Hati brings their gait up to speed, claws making a clicking noise across the pavement. The enormous black-and-golden wolf that they run beside stands nearly as tall as the trees, and Hati feels almost small next to him. And then, of course, they see the human, Wong, and remember just how large they truly are in that shape.

  
Niklas is faster than they are in his wolf-shape, with a thin coat that looks nothing like theirs or their Maker’s, and long, lean legs that look exactly like Fenrir’s. His grey (almost blue) pelt flashes by in an instant, almost quicker than Hati’s bejeweled eyes can follow.

  
Hati wishes they knew where the others were going. But they do not, and they understand that their Maker does not always know what to do. They’ve known this for years, known that being the wolf’s weapons of choice means no plan most of the time, and when there is a plan, it is usually the wolf’s father to thank.

  
Hati swivels their silver head around, searching for a familiar scent, something that could possibly, just maybe, give them an edge.

  
Their Maker calls from the top of the hill, his golden eyes filled with anxiety. Beside them, Niklas races forwards on two legs instead of four, now dyed-bright hair whipping past his face.

  
Hati laughs, a rough, mechanical sound, and listens to his summons.

  
Fenrir, for all that it’s worth, isn’t particularly happy about the report Skoll sends through Hati. He knows how to fly a ship, sure, but knowing how to fly one kind of ship and knowing how to fly all of them are very different things, and he can’t keep them from crashing with his magic from here.

  
The obvious solution, of course, is to send Hati to someone who might be able to figure it out, eventually. The only problem with that solution is, of course, they don’t know anyone that good at engineering or piloting that’s not either about to be very, very busy (the one that’d be the obvious candidate: Shuri), or already on the ship.

  
Fenrir wishes them luck, quietly, and digs his fingers into Hati’s metal-fur. There’s only one other option, out of all of them, and it’s to get Hati to Aquila as fast as they can manage.

  
The brat’s a true genius, Hati can acknowledge that. They've never seen anything that she can't figure out, given enough time.

  
The problem is, though, the humans trapped up there with Skoll don't have time. Aquila doesn't work well under pressure, especially when whatever she's studying is completely unfamiliar to her, and Hati wishes they could see the wisdom in pointlessly stressing one of the Pup Pack, but they cannot.

  
Aquila is en-route with the others when Hati intercepts the group. They watch as Aquila’s expression goes from relief they're safe, to fear, to understanding, then to a more muted version of that same fear.

  
“Hati, I can't do this,” she whispers to them after Hati relays the first set of basic schematics from Skoll.  
Hati puts their heavy metal paw on her shoulder and looks her straight in the eyes.

  
“Maybe you can't. And that's- that sucks, let's be honest, but we don't expect you to get it perfect. Skoll just needs to know how to steer the ship,” Hati says, their voice a quiet rumble.

  
Aquila nods, and, brow furrowed, goes back to staring at her notes. Her eyes widen.

  
“Hati, I've got it.”

  
-

  
Skoll knows they should be sighing with relief once they're on solid ground again, but that doesn't stop them from feeling uneasy.

  
There is something inherently wrong with this planet, like someone didn't even give it a chance to make things better, like someone refused to listen to the people and instead hurt the world to line the pockets of the wealthy.

  
Skoll listens to the earth here and finds it in mourning, for the lost lives of little ones and the pain that its survivors have caused others. They feel the anger of the dirt below their paws, feel it pulse into the minimal atmosphere, and smile sadly.

  
Skoll knows that the pure nothing where they stand is not the result of the disappearance of the users. They know that, once gone, the planet would return quickly to its proper state of life.  
Someone has carefully, carefully killed everything here and salted the earth so nothing could grow again.

  
They know who cripples Titan to make a point.

  
They coil their needles-and-fur tail around the littlest one, and the depth of their growl shakes the ground below them.

  
Peter threads his hand through Skoll’s pelt comfortingly, and Skoll fights the urge to rip the pup away from this place.  
Hati’s voice is far-off, but they can still hear it. Their fellow and the pup are the only things tying Skoll to their calm at the moment.

  
The wind whistles through the dead-rocks, and Strange and Stark whisper of their plans. Skoll feels the air change, and lifts their head to the sky.  
Peter seems to notice it as well, though it may just be the pup picking up on Skoll’s anxiety.

  
Something is coming. They don't know what, don't know if it's something friendly or someone they would rather not see.

  
Skoll digs their paws into the barren earth again, and braces themself.

  
-

  
Fenrir knows, in his bones, that he cannot falter. Eyes to the sky, back straight, head high, like they'd always told him.

  
He can feel his uncle’s fear from halfway across the galaxy, and his children’s from across the world, quietly humming in the back of his head.

  
The Power Stone answers to it, begs him to release its strength, to wield it.

  
Niklas looks to him with that same fear in his eyes that he can feel from the rest of the pups, and Fenrir wonders how long it will take him to cave in to the whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways I'm not happy with this but I wanted to feel something today so


	4. cold without mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whoa!!! more serious than this fic has any right to be. anyways there's loki in this one also sleipnir so

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehe the psat didn't kill me yall

Fenrir finds himself clutching the Stone in his hand come morning.

  
Vivid purple, it swirls and sparks in his hand like nothing he's ever seen. It speaks to him with a voice like a roar and a whisper, and Fenrir finds that he wishes to answer it.

  
He knows where to bring it.

  
There is a place, in the middle of Central Park, where a great dragon’s hoard meets stone ground by glaciers thousands of years ago.

  
It's long abandoned- forgotten for better treasures, and a quieter peak, but it is filled with things that whisper and a stone of power is not out of place.

  
The Stone is sealed into the ages-old bedrock, humming quietly where none can hear it.

  
Fenrir sidesteps the Whispering Things with careful practice, and the entrance is once again hidden, once again safe.

  
There is a niggling feeling in the back of his head that the Stone is not safe there, that it will fall into dubious hands and be used against him later.

  
And frankly, that feeling is probably right, in some way. Fenrir will live for thousands of years more, it's not like he won't ever see the thing again. But he knows good and well that if he takes the Stone with him, that “eventually” will turn into a “soon”.

  
Pale silver-blue wings flicker along the path, and a chill sets in the air.

  
Fenrir grins, nods, and leaves. She does not take kindly to godlings stashing items in Her territory, and he has tested Her patience for long enough. At least, he knows She will keep watch over the Stone.

  
Niklas and Wong greet him at the edge of the park, wary and amused. There is a third, as well, one of the few people Fenrir knows that is taller than he is by a notable margin.

  
Sleipnir smiles, bright white teeth almost blinding, as he throws an arm around his brother. Fenrir smiles back haltingly, before releasing a tired sigh.

  
“How are they?” Fenrir whispers. Sleipnir’s bright smile dims.

  
“Father is alright- he and Heimdall are keeping things together, from what I can tell. We haven't seen Uncle since he left with the Guardians, though,” Sleipnir hums. Fenrir notes Wong’s surprised jolt at the height and softness of Sleipnir’s voice, and rolls his eyes just a little exaggeratedly.

  
“Our sisters?” he asks his brother, worry fading just a bit from his voice.

  
“Alright, from what we can tell. Hela is… Hela. I’m not going to put any claims to how she’s doing emotionally but she seems to be mostly alright, save the- well, you know,” Sleipnir makes a play at joking, but they both know there is a thin line to tread there that their sister will never understand, having never been bound like they have before, despite her former status as Odin’s war-monger.

  
“And Jormungandr?” Fenrir asks quietly, already knowing the answer.

  
“You were the last to see her, brother,” Sleipnir replies, casting his eyes to where the both of them know the sea is, beyond the skyscrapers that obscure their vision.

  
“She’s angry,” Fenrir mutters, “and she has right to be.”

  
“Not to be rude and interrupt your moment, but what exactly are we going to do now?” Wong calls from behind them. Niklas is nodding along to what he’s saying (though Fenrir is quite sure that he only wants to know when they can get food).

  
“We eat, first of all, if there’s anywhere that hasn’t been wrecked as much by Squidward, then- Niklas, you help Wong with the Sanctums for now, Sleipnir, you stay with them, and I- I suppose I’ll get reinforcements,” Fenrir says.

  
“From where?” Sleipner asks, with just a hint of nervous laughter following it, “Who are you expecting to be stupid enough to crawl out of the woodwork now, after all that? If they haven’t made themselves known already, they won’t be willing to fight.”

  
His voice trails down to a whisper near the end, as Fenrir grins fiercely, sharp teeth glinting in the morning light.

  
“Those willing to will fight, brother, as they always have, and as they always will,” he replies. There is a distant howl from beyond the for once quiet streets. Fenrir’s black pelt is streaked with gold in the dawn as he bounds forwards to meet it.

  
-

  
The air is charged with anger and hostility with a strong undertone of fear, but none of it, for once, is directed towards him. The werewolves are snapping and growling, eyes aglow, and Fenrir watches them go silent as his presence fills the room.

  
The wolf that Fenrir has come here to meet with holds her head high, eyes aglow with the fire that has lit amongst her pack.

  
Fenrir doesn't need to say a word- she knows better than any other Turned Wolf the twists of time, and Sees as much as can be Seen.

  
She has already Seen this day, and already knows her answer.

  
-

  
Magic pulses through New York Harbor like a heartbeat, always ready for the call it needs to answer. The wolves fall in line behind their firebrand, and dragons circle through the sky.

  
“You don't think this is overkill?” Sleipnir asks him, and Fenrir’s smile is filled with teeth.

  
“They let us through their fingers, and we crushed them once. They will not make the same mistake again, their leader gone or no,” he hums.

  
“So we need to be ready, then,” Niklas cuts in.

  
“Yes, pup, we do. Send word to your siblings in Wakanda, and let the King know we have reserves ready if needed,” he asks. Niklas nods.

  
“And they’ll be..?” he replies hesitantly, jerking his head towards Avalanche and her small army of dragons and then towards the enormous werewolf pack that kept getting larger each and every time Fenrir looked back at it.

  
“Here. I've hidden one of the Stones in the city, and from what Skoll has been saying, one of the auxiliary Cronies not within the main group already got to the Reality Stone. Time is still with Strange, Space with your grandfather, and Mind with Vision, and nobody knows where the last one is, so this, before know, was the easiest to retrieve,” Fenrir replies. Nick’s eyes widen.

  
“I just thought you were being paranoid,” he says.

  
“By all meanings of the word, pup, I am. But I have a seer saying that we need to be prepared, and we’ve barely scratched at Thanos’s army,” he laughs bitterly.

  
“So it's not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.”

  
Nick turns, and in a flash of light, he is gone. Fenrir is too tired to remind him that in times like these, one does not use the Doorways so flippantly.

  
When Sleipnir leaves to rejoin Wong, Hati’s silvery frame is a welcome sight.

  
“You need me to make another run?” they ask quietly, eyes on the ocean.

Fenrir knows what they are thinking of, what they believe they need to do.

  
“We are not searching for my sister at a time like this, Hati,” he bites, and the metal being cringes, “but I do need you to do something.”

  
“What?” they reply, voice soft.

  
“Find my father, warn him,” he mutters, clutching the metal bar in his hand so tightly it bends.

  
“Of course,” Hati says gently, bobbing their tremendous silver head.

  
“Hati?” Fenrir asks after the wolf, who turns, concern evident on their metallic face.

  
“Yes?”

  
“What did you want to say, before?” Fenrir whispers.

  
“Just that you need to look, eventually,” Hati replies, form shimmering away like an illusion.

  
An illusion.

  
Fenrir’s eyes widen, just a fraction, before casting a detection spell, as wide a net as he can, then relaxes, as the familiar answer of “no” reaches his ears.

  
He does not remember that an answer of “no” should not be the one he receives, from all the illusions used to protect the creatures gathered here, and their homes within the city.

  
He does not remember that those same detection spells are one of the first things to be hit if the illusion is clever enough.

  
-

  
Hati shakes their head once as they emerge onto the Asgardian ship, removing the cloying atmosphere from their head. The people move to let them through, and Loki comes down to meet them, eyes wary.

  
“Where were you?” he whispers urgently, and Hati doesn't know why he sounds so frightened. There’s a buzzing in their ears that they’ve heard since they’d gotten to-

  
“I was in New York, why?” Hati asks, and Loki’s face goes whiter than it is even normally. Hati laughs inside their head at that, because despite having the darkest hair out of all of them, next to even Thor he's paler than some paper (to say nothing of when he's standing next to Fenrir or any of the Pup Pack).

  
Loki summons his books from the shelves, and begins flipping through them frantically. Hati grins lazily, coiling around the warm floor. Cracking open an eye, they notice the god of mischief beginning a diagnostic spell.

  
‘Probably for the buzzing,’ Hati thinks, sliding their eye closed again.

  
-

  
Loki is not okay, which Brunhilde can tell just by looking at him.

  
He’s frantic, which is never a good sign, as she has learned, and rifling through his spellbooks and tomes like a fox through the snow, which is never a good sign either.

  
Neither is Hati, asleep on the floor. Brunhilde has only known Hati to actually sleep (rather than go dormant) when Fenrir or Skoll is there, and the lazy smile on their face while they slumber tips her off to the fact that there is something very, very wrong.

  
“Figured it out yet?” she asks, hiding her concern with a confident swagger. Loki freezes, then turns.

  
It's worse than she thought. This kind of nervous means something’s wrong with the wolf and his pups, and Loki, while not always the most attentive guardian, does care fiercely for his brood.

  
“Yes,” he whispers, voice strained. Brunhilde’s frown shows plainly on her face.

  
“Then let’s go free your idiot son from the spell he’s under, yeah?” Brunhilde hums, trying to keep the mood lighter than it has any right to be.

  
“It's not going to be that easy, Valkyrie,” Loki replies, the usual sharp edge returning to his voice. The Valkyrie shakes her head, and taps the top of Hati’s metal skull to wake the beast up. They’re going to need all the help they can get.

  
“When is it ever, your highness?” she teases, and watches with sympathy as Hati goes through the several stages that she tends to associate with waking up from a compulsion or illusion (in order: confusion, realization, shock, horror, and eventually settling on standard emotional state with a strong undercurrent of fear).

  
“Shut up,” Loki finally snaps back half-heartedly, focusing more on opening a doorway that the three of them can all get through. Brunhilde looks around the ship, and makes eye contact with Sif, Heimdall, and Tyr respectively.

  
They nod in unison, all understanding their duties in a fraction of a second. She likes that about them- they're always on point. She steps through the doorway with her mind more at ease about the fate of the ship that carries the lives of her fellows onboard.

  
That easiness is washed away when the doorway closes behind them. Hati’s metal hackles prickle in agitation, and Loki’s eyes widen fearfully.

  
Brunhilde can feel the cloying atmosphere playing with her very mind, and wonders how in hell they’re going to lift it.

  
She can tell Loki and Hati’s minds are alike with hers in their thinking, the former clutching his tomes tighter to his chest like a pillow and the latter peering nervously up at the sky.

  
The first order of business, she knows, is to find Fenrir.

  
-

  
Fenrir knows his father shouldn't be here.  
Hati’s nervous posture and his father’s worried glances tell him all he needs to know, and Fenrir wonders how many will need to be quarantined in the near future, either from whatever has made them so nervous or whatever his father is planning to do to remove what's making him so nervous (which Fenrir knows from experience can result in far worse things than the initial problem.)

  
There is a feeling of cold, cold, cold, like he's been dipped in some sort of gel, and it spreads, removing the cloying heat like a dunk in freezing water on a hot day in the middle of southern Texas.

  
With that cold, comes clarity, and with that clarity, comes horror.

  
He races for the park, eyes wide, heart beating like a jackrabbit’s in its ribcage.  
He leaps over cars, shape stretching further and further with each stride until he clears lightposts with a single bound and is taller than the tree branches.

  
It's not enough.

  
She wakes from the spell like the rest of the city, and turns Her eyes to the lair, torn apart like a raided turtle nest.

  
The Stone is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is this moderately serious and why did I include 3 of the 4 A's this is not the correct section for aviv atara avalanche and akiva
> 
> jk I'm tired this is unbeta'ed as always and my lifeblood has been sapped, can you tell?
> 
> Fenrir: ok here's this incredibly valuable source of strength keep it safe please?  
> Tundra, the polar dragon referred to exclusively with Capitalized Pronouns: yeah sure  
> the ppl who took the power Stone: fuck no lmao


	5. the whispering winds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> basically, everyone gets ready for the final battle, but I ain't introducing y'all to maya or this version of jormungandr yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another update? less than three months before the previous one? what is happening to me?????

Hati is dispatched almost immediately, with the message that those holding ground in New York have failed.

Fenrir rakes his hands through his hair and tries not to scream. Pressure builds and builds in his chest, and Fenrir doesn't even notice his breathing speeding up and the rest of the world fading away until there’s a tightness in his throat and blood is running down his arm.

Something long and silver-white wraps around his shoulders, a cool, comforting presence. He doesn't even need to look up to know it's Glacier.

The polar dragon sighs.

“I know, I’m sor-” he begins, but she holds up a clawed finger to stop him.

“You,” she begins, “have nothing to be sorry for- and don't  _ look _ at me like that. So what they snuck past you? They snuck past the rest of us, too. You did the right thing by hiding the Stone and it bit you in the ass, but that's  _ not your fault, Fenrir. _ ”

He looks down, afraid, internally, of disappointing her. Glacier, to be completely honest, is one of his closest friends, and has been since she and Maya sliced through his chains centuries upon centuries ago.

He almost looks up, hopeful for a different kind of thunder than he's heard lately, the kind that would mean all of the three of them together again, the kind that would give him more hope than almost anything.

But the thunder doesn’t come, and the pressure doesn’t drop like it does when her wings stir the air. Fenrir knows in his heart that it’s too much to ask for, but feels disappointed all the same.

“She’ll be here eventually,” Glacier whispers, “just give her time.”

Fenrir leans into her side as she shrinks, snowy-white hairlike feathers and scales giving way to whiter hair and dark skin.

“I know she will,” Fenrir replies gently, voice raw, “I just hope that when that time comes, it won't be too late.”

-

Hati may or may not be having a panic attack.

They don’t even know if they  _ can _ have panic attacks (or at least, if they're supposed to be able to), but this certainly feels like one.

They can't breathe.

It is Aquila’s nimble fingers that smooth out sharp lines of metal, that raise their head just enough to get a good look at them.

It is Aquila that sits with them until the fear wears off.

It is Lynn, however, that comes up with the plan.

Hati shouldn't be surprised- Lynn has always been one of the more tactically-minded pups in the pack, and her steel-gray eyes miss nothing.

It is Lynn who thinks to sound the warning bell, Lynn who suggests pinning the enemy between a rock and a hard place, Lynn who suggests calling on the mightiest of their allies and giving it all they've got.

Hati knows what they have to do, and looks out at the sky with weary eyes.

“Do you think I could convince Skoll to run to get the T’karians, or do you think I should be the one to do it?” they ask. Lynn looks up.

“We’re closer here than Skoll is on Titan. Besides, someone needs to keep watch on that lot, anyways,” she replies coolly. Hati smiles.

-

Skoll finds that every time they take their eyes off of one of the major players in this game the universe is playing, things get infinitely worse.

From what they can tell from what Hati has told them, their adversaries have two of the five stones currently in play on the board, and the most offensively-angled ones to boot.

They eye the Time Stone around Strange’s neck, and rethink that statement. They will not let Strange out of their sight- Time is the most valuable Stone of them all.

Peter (the younger one, they think, now that both are here) grabs another fistful of Skoll’s fur, which has become softer to accommodate, anxiously. Skoll feels a great swell of pity for the pup, who is likely wholly unused to this sort of firefight, much less the coming war.

Skoll sees their combined forces, and folds their ears back nervously- while if what Hati has said is true, and they are seeking the aid of the Queens of T’kari, they may stand more than just a chance on the Earth front, they know that this few guarding the most essential of the Stones is a fat target with an exposed underbelly.

Stark appears to be thinking the same thing- as does Strange, and the blue woman whom Peter Number Two has introduced as “Nebula”.

Skoll bristles, knowing that they very well may be the finest defender this motley crew has at the moment. It is not like they are unable to fight on their own, or even be the heaviest hitter of any particular group, they're just used to either their Maker being there, or someone else powerful enough to make even the mightiest of foes rethink their stance.

In short- they don't know if they're up to the task.

Hati pulses with encouragement in the back of their head, trying to take their mind off of what could happen should Skoll fail.

Skoll should be comforted by this.

They are not.

-

Aquila looks to Lynn after Hati leaves, and knows in her heart that they're both on the same page.

“We’re gonna need more firepower,” she prods, and Lynn nods.

“Or water-power.”

“You wanna go wake up Auntie Jor or should I do it?” Aquila asks, a nervous grin on her face.

“You go. I have to manage our idiot siblings, no?” her sister retorts, pointing a thumb over at a pacing Vidan.

“I'll grab two of them and take them off your hands, yeah?”

Aquila has already grasped the arms of Zahara and Conan before she hears Lynn’s answer.

-

The thought that they may be a Stone or two away from losing terrifies Fenrir, but only slightly more than the concept that they may, for all intents and purposes, win, but at the cost of thousands, even millions of lives.

Well, no. With the arrival of Thanos on Xandar, the death count had already risen to the billions, and if one considered everything he had done prior, it was likely almost in the trillions.

Fenrir wonders how they missed a madman going from planet to planet and wiping out billions of lives from each one.

_ ‘No’ _ he thinks to himself,  _ ‘Odin likely knew already, and Father certainly did, but was more keen on avoiding consequences than warning us, I suppose.’ _

Fenrir really can't blame him, with the exception of the fact that since a giant wolf sitting on him and eating his weaponry had worked to stun him long enough to kill him, it very well may have worked a long while beforehand.

Of course, there was also the fact that Thanos’s guard was certainly not up when he had the Power Stone, and the opposite would likely have been true before he’d snagged it.

Fenrir thinks they likely would be dead by now had the orchestrator of this whole mess was still alive and kicking.

As it stands, he is at least thankful that the Cronies appear to be a little less capable than their master, which has given them at least something of a fighting chance.

Fenrir smiles as he reads the message from Lynn, mentally recalculating their odds.

Maybe a little more than just a fighting chance.

-

The fact of the matter is, Peter Parker has no idea what's going on, really.

The giant metal wolf- Skoll, he corrects, its- no,  _ their _ name is Skoll- has been exceedingly anxious for the past several hours (Peter  _ thinks _ it's Day Number Two of Being In Space), and Peter can't really do anything about it except be there and crack a couple of jokes from time to time. It's taken a while, but the adults have started to sort of… surround him protectively.

It might be because the (green? red?) guy (Drax, he reminds himself) is a dad, or he and Other-Peter share a first name (although that's the more out-there theory), or that Skoll is used to protecting people and Peter’s really not an exception. Or, of course, it could also be because Peter’s the only kid there.

He's sitting with his back on Skoll’s side (which smells vaguely like blood, he notes, and assumes that's probably a regular association when one is made of metal) when he finally bothers to ask the big question.

“So. Uh. We should probably trade notes about what's going on, right?” he asks, and he can  _ feel _ Skoll nodding, which is weird. He wonders if the huge wolf is now his friend, which would also be weird. He’ll have to ask him later. If they live until later, of course.

“Also, what do we think the odds are that we’re all gonna die?” he asks again, which garners odd looks from the rest of the group. Skoll looks at him with more than a handful of pity.

“Let's discuss the plan first before we get to that, yeah?” Doctor Strange replies (and  _ that _ had thrown Peter for a loop- the guy’s real, actual name was Doctor Stephen Strange, which was simultaneously very cool and also moderately funny, because he  _ knows _ he can't have been the first person to ask the guy yet, because instead of getting irritable about it he only looked resigned when Peter had told him his name was Spider-Man).

Peter nods.

He wonders if, beyond Skoll’s knowledge from Hati, if they'll ever figure out whether or not Earth still stands, when everything is over.

-

Steve knows that the Pup Pack isn't telling them something.

They speak in hushed tones to T’challa, and are even quieter with each other, relying more on body language and hand signs than anything else.

And while Steve does know his brand of ASL, he does  _ not _ know the other kind, which was most certainly  _ not _ American Sign Language (or Canadian.)

He sees a few signs he knows the ASL meaning for, but knows very well that they're likely false cognates as, unless it is an incredibly strange plan they're concocting, he doesn't know why they'd need a moose or a mantis shrimp.

Or, he thinks to himself, they could just be throwing in a few ASL signs to throw him off of whatever they're planning.

(In fact, the plan does require a moose  _ and _ a mantis shrimp, or at least the Asgardian equivalent of one, which weighs about nine hundred pounds, can walk on land, and can turn someone’s skull to mush with a particularly hard strike of the pincers).

(The moose is just a standard Midgardian moose, because moose are terrifying and even demigods will acknowledge that, even if it pains them greatly to do anything of the sort.)

-

Conan knows he very well be his aunt’s favorite nephew, which is likely why he’s been dragged along to the middle of Atlantic, on a boat made of magic which somehow does not have heating, despite the fact that it was conjured by one of the most fire-aligned magic users that Conan has met in his entire life (and he would know. She is his big sister after all, he's known her for all of that life).

Jormungandr has been sleeping (and occasionally eating) at the bottom of the Atlantic for the past several decades, with specific instructions not to wake her up unless it's an actual, active emergency.

This, by literally every definition of the word, qualifies as an emergency. He knows Jormungandr couldn't blame them for this if she tried, but he also knows how cranky his aunt can get when she's woken up before she's ready.

The ocean here is deep, and likely full of creatures that wouldn't hesitate to eat Conan if he didn't have his magic, but despite all this, even the possibility of an incredibly irritable Aunt Jor, he's not really all that nervous. At least not about this.

He is, of course, exceedingly nervous about the fact that the Crony Collection has not just the one, but now  _ two  _ Infinity Stones in their possession, but that is neither here nor there.

He feels his bones crack and warp, eyes growing wider to see in the dark and gill slits forming on his neck. As his skin is replaced with scales and his limbs are lost, he loses purchase on the deck and slips and falls into the water.

The irritating pain of the transformation ebbs away as, with a flick of a long, fanned tail, he swims down, down, down, into the depths, with just the light of his stripes and the hulking shape of the sleeping serpent he has come to find guiding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol okay so I've gotta explain the T'kari thing before it becomes a big issue  
> basically, my version of Fenrir has been in the works for a long-ass time, so he picked up some buddies. He, Glacier (a Polar Dragon monarch) and Maya Demeru make up Royal Point, which is basically just a kick-ass team, but Maya's usually to busy to deal with literally anything and Glacier's got more free time so...  
> also!!! aquila's dating maya's daughter zira  
> and i'm tired as hell and have never had a beta lol  
> (that's a lie I had a beta 1 (one) time and never had one ever again)


	6. arm yourselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The preparations for war begin, and everyone is terrified

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is actually kinda slow, but anyways have some Maya and Jormungandr

If it were literally any other species, Hati knows, it would be incredibly rude to think that they were utterly terrifying.

But T’karians (or, at the very least, the species Hati thinks of when thinking of T’karians) enjoy instilling a little fear into even their own allies, and so Talia Demeru is vaguely amused when Hati’s (false) heartbeat speeds up and they seem to cower when they see her mother.

Maya Demeru, at first sight, is one of the most frightening T’karians Hati knows of. It is only their own experience of how ridiculous the monarch can actually be that keeps their belly from scraping the floor.

Objectively, at least compared to Asgardians, she looks more than a little strange, with enormous eyes even when they are narrowed and an arched tail that Hati knows from experience is both a counterweight and one of the deadliest weapons on their person. Her wings, wide enough to spread across most rooms, are tucked smoothly behind her back, and Hati remembers how they can easily smash a man’s skull open if used that way.

The Queen of T’kari (well, the queen of the Tseki. The representative-Queen of T’kari is technically her correct title, but Hati thinks that’s too much of a mouthful) smiles her smile filled with sharp, venomous teeth, and asks Hati what their message is.

The silver wolf sighs, and the Queen’s smile drops as they speak, reaching with clawed fingers for a weapon.

“I suppose we are to assist them, yes?” she asks, spots flickering across her face- a habit Hati knows is more for any of the possibly deaf guards or representatives in the room than for them.

“If you can.”

“Oh, we can, fledgeling,” she purrs, flaring out her wings aggressively, “Now. The real question is, who are we fighting?”

Hati finds themself smiling a smile filled with sharp teeth like the monarch before them.

-

On the surface of the Atlantic Ocean, Aquila Jacobi narrows her eyes in concentration. Thick, downy, cinnamon-colored fur blows in the ocean wind, and Aquila thanks her initiative to shift first before it had gotten too cold.

Next to her, Zahara shakes her coat out. Aquila curls her tail around her younger sister- she knows very well that it's not the pup’s fault her fur is thin, and how miserable a two-legged mammalian form is when it's cold as all get-out.

Her sister leans into her side, before splashing Aquila in the face with cold water. The wolf snorts and shakes her head.

Younger siblings are the  _ worst. _

Unless, she counters, they can grab one’s terrifyingly powerful aunt from the depths of the ocean and convince said aunt to help with the whole ‘there's a group of people trying to kill half of everybody’ thing. Then, younger siblings can have their uses.

Aquila’s bones crack and snap as she shifts to two legs, a warm golden cape settling around her shoulders. No matter what anyone else says, Aquila has a flair and a talent for the dramatic, and she  _ will _ show it off, if only to let her aunt know what she’s learned in the elder’s absence.

The water below the ship begins to boil, and Aquila grins from ear to ear, a frightening look, considering the still-shrinking wolf fangs.

Zahara, beside her, looks uneasy, shifting from foot to foot with her eyes trained on the sky. Aquila sighs. Zahara’s younger, of course, but that's no reason to be so paranoid.

Unless, of course, it is, and Aquila feels like smacking her sister upside the head for planting that idea in hers. But she won't, because she's the elder sibling and needs to take the high ground.

Her brother, ever the show-off, flips a grand total of sixteen times as he makes his way out of the water. Aquila sighs. She's glad she's older (even if it's only by an hour), and that that holds some weight with Conan, because at least that's something keeping him from having a bigger head than he does already.

Aunt Jormungandr is a little more… subtle. Well, subtle as can be when one is transitioning from giant sea serpent to something far more manageable, and Aquila does not envy her aunt in the slightest. That sort of physical distortion would give anyone vertigo, even the near unstoppable snake, though Jormungandr does not appear to be phased by the massive change in body mass.

As her aunt steps on deck, Aquila grins. Even in a vaguely mammalian shape, her aunt still reminds her of a viper. Her eyes, large and poison-green, are cold, and she is poised to strike at any time, as if even Aquila and Zahara are a threat.

Aquila doesn’t know what Conan told her, but she’s happy the serpent is on guard. They’ve paid for their calm already, and trigger-happy is better than slow to the draw at this point.

Jormungandr stares them both down. Aquila’s bones are changing before she can even feel it, as are Zahara’s. The two wolves share matching grins, claws and fangs proudly on display. Zahara’s quarterstaff is tucked behind her left paw, and Festa, the sharp-eyed snake that she is, hisses happily from behind Aquila’s ear as she recognizes someone like herself.

Jormungandr nods, and Aquila sighs, ever so faintly, in relief. Zahara follows suit, and shivers ever so slightly. Aquila frowns, taps her paw twice to the deck of the boat, and they’re most certainly not in the middle of the Atlantic anymore.

The gateway in New York Harbor opens, back to where they are supposed to be, for the moment, to where her aunt will be needed when the fighting truly begins in earnest.

Aquila looks to the city, searches for her father, standing guard. She wonders if he’s left by now, off to find a place where he’ll be more useful, now that there's not a Stone to guard.

-

Fenrir and Glacier look to the burning-red of the dawn with sharp-fanged smiles on their faces.

Being amongst the guardians of Earth, or with his fellow Asgardians, has nothing on the feeling that help is on the way.

Glacier coils her tail around Fenrir’s, and shoves him with one broad shoulder. He snaps back playfully, then sighs.

No matter how much faith he has in Maya, he cannot lose sight of his goals. He tells this to Glacier, who looks upon the gathered forces with no small amount of worry.

-

Maya Demeru is  _ old,  _ by all accounts _ ,  _ but she remembers what it was like to be young and afraid.

She remembers the anger that comes after it, too, and reminds herself that after the danger has passed, they must keep themselves under control.

Maya Demeru remembers what happens when revenge goes too far- remembers the smell of burned skin and hair on the breeze, how it had made her choke in shock and horror.

Even the deaths of those who deserve it can be disturbing, as she has learned over the years.

As she locks eyes with her eldest daughter, Maya Demeru remembers one more thing.

Disturbing and fitting ends are not mutually exclusive.

-

Vidan is a careful man.

He hasn’t always been, and he’s paid for it in blood and tears, and when he pulls a tri-colored flag around his shoulders and feels like he’s on top of the world, he knows he fought for the right to  _ not _ be so cautious with everything he had.

Vidan is stubborn, and he sees that in his siblings, too. They are not the kind to give up something they care for without one hell of a fight, and he’s proud of them for it.

Lynn, eyes as sharp as ever, commands the rest of the pup pack with a grace he’s only seen from their father. Even Erika and Calder listen to their little sister, who has switched from simple worry and basic defense to war preparations in less than a second.

He knows that she scares the both of them when she’s like this, even if it’s only a little bit. Lynn is kind until she isn’t, calm until she can’t be. She speaks like there’s no end to her patience, and when that grows thin, they all know to keep their distance.

Vidan steps up to the plate, tells her to go and get some sleep. She may see herself as the one in charge, but she’s his little sister. She can’t do  _ everything. _

-

The fact of the matter is, they’re all preparing for the fight of their lives.

Skoll knows this, remembers this, can feel it through Hati’s eyes and Hati’s ears.

They hear a voice like titanium under velvet, feel the anger of a hundred thousand wings on the breeze, hear a rumbled growl that’s all too familiar and brings an urgency to their stride.

Skoll knows they have to move, have to  _ be there _ when they’re needed, where they’re needed. They say as such to the Guardians, who seem perplexed at how they know what’s happening beyond the borders of this planet’s atmosphere, but are otherwise fine with the plan.

It’s more than enough to ask for, and Skoll tells them such. Their plan isn’t even much of a plan, and they still have support for it, which, to be completely honest, is actually quite a refreshing feeling.

Peter digs his fingers through their metal-fur again, nervous. Skoll tells him that it’s better to fight now then to drag out their suffering or have no idea who has won until half of them are dead.

Peter counters that they would, of course, know, because Strange has the Time Stone. Skoll has to agree that it’s an excellent point, though now they do feel obligated to guard Strange more closely. Peter agrees to that, and they spend the time before takeoff herding Strange into a corner where they both can keep watch on him.

Strange, surprisingly enough, is fine with this. Skoll is pleased that they have at least one person to guard.

-

Steve finds himself virtually solely in charge of the sleeping members of the Pup Pack.

He doesn’t mind, of course, because he’s known some of these kids, through reputation at least, since before he went into the ice (most namely the three eldest, who have managed to stay awake), and after, of course, they’d made the more notable of their impressions on him. He’s grateful that they trust him enough to watch over the littler ones (Niklas especially, who had already worn himself out organizing and fighting in New York and was already well into the second round of sleep deprivation). He knows he may very well be one of the few that’s passed their little ‘test’ (the only ones he knows have passed besides himself have either known the pups for centuries, like the werewolf in New York who seemed to look right through him, or, well, Sam, because Sam practically oozes trustworthiness), and knows he can’t break that trust even if he tried.

That happens to be the primary reason he ‘passed’.

The other reason, of course, is the fact that he can deal with the younger ones. Now, of course, means glaring at them until they agree to take a nap and let the older siblings take on some of the workload.

He’s kind of grateful that there’s only two.

And then, of course, there’s  _ five, _ but at least Aquila, Conan, and Zahara all actually  _ want _ sleep, which is good. Jormungandr (or at least that’s who he assumes the muscular woman with several inches of height on him is) gives him an assessing look, and then a nod. Steve takes the invitation and leaves the room.

He’s needed elsewhere.

-

Jormungandr looks at the sky with the kind of venom one would expect to find in her fangs. Wanda thinks she looks a bit like a puff adder, instead of a serpent big enough to crush the world in her coils. Wanda also knows that looks are often deceiving.

The Asgardian stares at her with those terrifying, acid-green eyes, and tilts her head.

“You don’t seem prepared to face the fact that you very well may have to kill him,” she says gently, and Wanda recoils.

“I’m not,” she whispers honestly. Jormungandr’s eyes are filled with more sadness and care than she would expect from someone who, as a child, had been told they were fated to destroy the world.

Wanda remembers that she’s Fenrir’s sister, and suddenly, it’s not surprising at all.

“You know,” the serpent replies as she looks to the stars, “I don’t expect you to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!!! I'm not dead!! and I updated within like 20 days of my previous update are y'all proud of me
> 
> also the flag vi talks about is the trans flag


	7. countdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a peculiar kind of feeling, knowing it is hours or days but no longer than such before none can stand in one's way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not QUITE all cards on the table yet, but close.

“You’re being quiet,” Lynn mutters, throwing an arm around her little sister. Aquila looks to her with eyes of vivid gold, like fire, and Lynn knows she’s only quiet because quiet is the best atmosphere for planning someone’s death.

Lynn may make a show of being scary, but her sister is the dangerous one. Aquila’s mind is as sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel, and she knows how to twist something until it hurts.

Aquila is planning to destroy someone, and Lynn will not stand in her way.

The young wolf watches with a sharp grin as golden magic wraps around her hands, and spreads in every direction. It is a seeking kind of magic, that roots out the enemy where they stand, and cannot simply be hidden from.

Aquila lifts her eyes to her sister’s, and dares her to challenge what she is doing. Lynn lifts her hands placatingly, and shifts.

Her thick, almost white fur provides a comfortable protection from too harsh a rebound of Aquila’s magic. The younger wolf sees this, and takes shelter as wells

The magic returns to Lynn’s shape like a boomerang, with all the force of the same object.

Lynn looks at her sister curiously. Aquila waves her off.

Lynn looks to the sky, instead, and decides that if nobody else is going to do it, she will go to find her uncle.

-

It is a peculiar kind of feeling, knowing it is hours or days but no longer than such before nothing can stand in one’s way.

Fenrir wonders if this is what supervillains think, when they shout that their power cannot be matched, when they are on top of the world.

That is not a particularly welcome thought.

He hates waiting.

It is seen in his most basic of movements. It is felt in the bouncing of his feet, the flickers of his magic around himself.

Fenrir feels trapped.

The best he can do is guard the gateways, and make sure they can't come through them to attack his father and the Space Stone. It is the best he can do, and yet, for Fenrir, who has fought his way out of more situations than a doctor has any right to, feels that it is not enough.

For not the first time in his two and a half thousand years of life, Fenrir Jacobi feels useless.

He doesn't know why. Internally, he knows that the duty he has at the moment is critical. New York is host to a thousand and then some gateways, from pocket dimensions to across the galaxies and universes. Wormholes, rips in pockets of time and space, that they all simply cannot afford to fall into enemy hands.

But Fenrir still feels useless. Quiet. Discontent.

It is at this time when he realizes the absolute absurdity of the plans of his enemies, and laughs a high, howling laugh, that reverberates through a city that is the closest to empty that Fenrir has seen it in centuries.

It is a laugh filled with pain, and rage, and frustration.

And, like the standard for a Fenrir that is frustrated, he begins to coalesce his ideas. Of  _ why _ he is frustrated,  _ why _ he is angry, and  _ why _ his right to action outweighs theirs.

It is one of the few things he has picked up from his father. Be ready for a physical battle, of course, but going in unprepared to a duel of words is far deadlier than being unprepared in a duel of swords.

He wonders, while he thinks, if words are enough to catch his enemy off-guard, if they will buy the children enough time, if they will help him win.

He doesn't know if the answer to that is in the affirmative or the negative, but at the very least, screaming at something until one’s throat goes hoarse can be therapeutic.

-

Thor is en-route to Earth on the tiny ship when it becomes even smaller.

He recognizes the large, pale wolf immediately- he is close to his nephew’s children, and such a striking color morph is easily noticeable.

“Hello, Lynn. How are you?” he asks. The wolf winces, and begins shifting back into a form that will fit more easily within the pod.

“I am alright,” she says. Thor blinks.

“And how is Earth?” he presses. Lynn winces more drastically.

“Not as well, I am afraid. The Power Stone has been taken, and they have the Reality Stone,” she replies.

Lynn then turns towards Rabbit and Groot.

“Your friend- Gamora? Skoll says your other friends do not know where she is. They fear the enemy has taken her for some reason.”

Rabbit’s angered shriek bounces off the walls. Lynn covers her ears and grits her teeth.

“On the plus side, we have an axe,” he says, hefting Stormbreaker with one hand.

Lynn smiles and reaches out a hand for the weapon. Thor obliges, and passes it over.

“It's new?” she asks with fascination. Thor remembers that she's only used axes as her weapon of choice for the past several hundred years.

“Yes. And it's  _ mine, _ brat,” he says jokingly. Lynn snorts, and hands the weapon back over. Ásjá shimmers in her hand, becoming the intricately constructed battleaxe that he had once tested with Mjolnir all those years ago.

Lynn looks back to him.

“Are you alright, Uncle?” she asks. Thor nods.

Lynn grows quiet again, and begins to sharpen her weapons. Occasionally, her silver eyes flicker around the cabin, but for the most part, she stays where she is, and she stays quiet.

There is a portal, flickering in that same silver, that opens in front of them. Thor looks to Lynn thankfully, but she is already gone.

He instructs Rocket to go through the rip in space. Or, well, not a rip, but an intentionally cut and thread-through hole, like when one makes a shirt.

The swirling portal closes back behind them. Thor is thankful for it.

-

Aquila wakes with eyes aflame, like liquid gold has been poured directly into her skull, and Sam understands why everyone says that out of the children of Fenrir Jacobi, his third daughter looks the most like him.

She is angry, he knows. She looks to the horizon with a seething rage, fire and heat pouring off her in waves. When she steps by dry grass, it catches alight.

Sam, as someone with moderate experience in this and as someone who Aquila trusts, has been tasked with calming her down.

She paces along the pathways with fire in her hands, turns metal runny if she grips it too tightly. She  _ is _ fire, now, and she roars.

Sam sits her down in a place where he knows Aquila will try as hard as she can to keep control of herself. The people bustle around them, preparing for war.

“I know you aren’t doing alright. Don’t lie to me,” he says. Aquila takes a shuddering breath and nods. The fire around them dims, just a little bit.

“I’m- I’m not. I’m angry, and- and I don’t think I’m controlling it well,” she replies. The fire flares again, but continues to dim, coalescing back into her eyes.

“Do you know why you’re feeling angry?” he asks. Aquila blinks.

“Aside from the obvious? I guess I feel a little bit useless. And- and I know I’ve helped, but I feel like I could- I could do  _ more, _ you know? And I feel like I’m taking advantage of all the brave people here willing to fight by just staying here and doing nothing,” she answers softly. Sam sighs, and takes a deep breath.

“Listen. It’s not my job to help you feel better. Ah- don’t interrupt me. It’s not my job to help you, but you’re a liability if you keep burning things up at the rate you’re going. If you want to help, I’d suggest enchanting some of the weapons in the armories, or talking to Shuri about what they’ll use for the fight. But don’t take it out on yourself, and  _ definitely don’t take it out on other people and start randomly setting things on fire, kid, what the hell are you thinking?” _ he says. Aquila’s eyes go wide. Sam realizes that maybe, just maybe, she had no idea what was going on.

“What?” she squeaks. Sam nods.

“You’ve had a fire-aura the whole day. Go to the armory, or help Shuri, or do something that’ll work, but just don’t keep doing this if you can avoid it, kid,” he says softly. Aquila nods sharply, and turns towards the armory, hopefully to begin to help. Sam sighs, and moves to go find Steve again.

Niklas runs in his wake, a flicker of blue and green lightning. Sam gives a startled laugh when the pup shouts “on your left!”.

Of  _ course _ someone told him about that.

He bets it was Steve.

-

Vidan paces on the highest point he can find.

It serves a double purpose- for one, he looks cool. That’s always nice. For two, he can see everything.

Therefore, it is Vidan, pacing on the mountain, that sees the first flicker in the distance.

It is less seeing, really, and more sensing. He feels it is likely not really the first, but rather simply the largest of the ships that has finally come into viewing range.

He will not know of the smaller ones until they enter the atmosphere, at least. From what Lynn has told him, they will have to wait even longer for the small pod that Thor is on at the moment.

Something else spasms into view, a flickering, unstable image. A report from Skoll.

“We’re fine,” the bronze wolf says, turning their head to look at something close, “nothing’s happened so far. We would move the people here, but we’d rather not risk having several Stones in one place. Who is keeping an eye on Vision?”

“Erika,” he replies smoothly. Skoll nods.

“And Loki?”

“That would be Hati, Skoll. You know this,” he rumbles. Skoll snorts and nods. The image fades.

Vidan raises his eyes to the sky again.

He hopes it is enough. He hopes it will be more than enough. Enough means a victory barely scraped together, hundreds, thousands, millions dead. Enough means that there is the whole of the universe, but at a great price- his father, his sisters, his brothers, and any number of others.

Vidan growls. Deep blue eyes close. His shoulders begin to shake.

It is on a mountain in Wakanda, hours before the fight of his life, that Vidan Jacobi truly feels the weight of the world resting in his hands.

-

Erika Jacobi feels like something is going to break, and soon, at that.

She remains in her thick-furred wolf form in Shuri’s lab, watching with a keen eye everything around her as best she can.

Wanda digs her hands into Rick’s fur. She places a paw around the young woman’s shoulders. Wanda turns her head into Rick’s fluffy side and whispers prayers under her breath.

Rick sighs, and shifts back into her human-shape when Shuri needs her to, stepping aside gently. Wanda looks just a little embarrassed. Rick gives her a soft smile.

“It's going to be okay,” she says warmly. Wanda smiles shakily, but doesn't look convinced. She turns back towards Vision, hands clenched around each other. She looks so sad, so heartbroken, and Rick remembers that this is a woman who has lost quite literally everyone she loves and is now facing the possibility of that pain  _ again. _

“Listen to me,” Rick whispers, turning Wanda’s face towards her,  _ “it is not your fault. _ This is what you need to remember. It is the fault of a guy who thinks murdering everyone is a viable economic strategy.  _ Do you understand? _ ”

Wanda nods. Her hands quiver, just a bit.

Rick pulls her in for a hug, and prays that whatever happens, she will be strong enough to do what comes next.

-

The shields go up as the sky begins to lighten, and Jormungandr finds herself filled with an appreciation for human technology. Asgardians are rarely so forward-thinking, and it has saved their lives tonight.

Maybe.

The army, thankfully, does not have the Reality Stone- though they certainly do have  _ something. _ If Jormungandr was to wager, she would say that the Stones have likely been spread around the surviving whatever-they-are.

It is the Power Stone, that this one holds. Jormungandr can sense no other.

The army gathers on the other side.

Jormungandr smiles as, at daybreak, they mass on their side of the shield. She watches as they prepare for war, as weapons trade hands and the army shouts their battle cries.

Jormungandr, in the reverse of her transformation only a few days before, with scales replacing skin and bones cracking and crunching into shape, smiles.

It is a terrifying thing, filled with sharp teeth on the backdrop of a gaping maw. Her scales slide along the ground and crush most of everything in her wake.

She slides to the barrier, and looks them dead in the eyes with her own, gigantic and toxic green. Some begin to run backwards. Others continue to charge the barrier unperturbed.

Jormungandr hisses out a laugh. If they wish to be annihilated, she will oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I probably won't do anything for Avengers: Endgame for this fic, since it's inherently a fix-it. This is probably one of the last few chapters, actually- at most, I might do the recovery, but it's not going to be a long-winded end, really.  
> So, uh, yeah. Not the second to last chapter or anything, but this isn't going to be a very long fic. Sorry to anyone who was hoping for that.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ:
> 
> Hati and Skoll are living pieces of metal, essentially. In their natural shape, they're like metal wolf statues. They can also become swords, which is what they like better, since they can hitch a free ride. They're lazy as fuck.
> 
> Fenrir has a grand total of eight kids, three of them adopted. In order of age, they are: Vidan, Erika, Lynn, Aquila, Conan, Calder, Zahara, and Niklas. Vidan goes by "Vi", Erika by "Rick", Aquila by "Quill" (which was intentionally for purposes of confusion), Calder by "Cal", and Niklas by "Nick". Zahara and Conan go by their full names. Lynn doesn't have a full name, really, I'm still figuring things out.
> 
> Also, I can't update regularly for the life of me, I'm sorry. Feel free to remind me if you somehow get attached to this story.


End file.
